


The Dragon Sage

by drunkdragon



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: AU, Female Robin - Freeform, Grima learns about humanity the hands-on way, I use "Robin" loosely, Not Canon Compliant, ship tags as they occur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-09-05 00:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16800058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkdragon/pseuds/drunkdragon
Summary: Humanity perplexed Grima. Temporary and weak, yet for a second time they had struck her down. And so she decided to walk among them, to learn of the strength in their form.





	1. Chapter 1

Grima stared into the Eternal Well. It was a melting pot of all souls, lives lost through the sword, famine, sickness, misfortune, or time itself. One strand merged with another, others split into an infinite thread, like a spider’s web. Her ethereal hand dipped in, gently pulling one out of the swirling cacophony of lights and watched as it split and trickled back in. Making a fist, all the rest of it escaped her grasp like dust before dripping down again.

So frail. And to imagine that from these wisps rose the heroes that disposed of her not once but twice, it was baffling. Where did these souls store the strength and bravery that wielded the Falchion? There was no mass, no constitution, no form. Countless had died to her claws and fangs. How could such formless things lead to the great power behind them? They were not the firstborn, they were not the ones who lived and spoke with the gods. Their petty ideals and individualistic goals stood before them, drawing lines of strife.

And yet they persisted, taming the wilds to their demands. Conquering foes greater than themselves. Somewhere within them was a power, a strength unexplainable.

She sought to understand it, to perhaps claim it for herself even. But there was a disturbance in her mind, breaking her away from the tranquility the Eternal Well had provided.

“Naga.”

To her side, the shape of a woman appeared. “You have been staring into it for some time.” Clothed in soft green light, her shimming white dress stood in contrast against her own dark and ghostly form. “I am… concerned for what your presence here entails.”

“I am powerless in this state,” she spat, or tried to. “My strength may have begun to return to me, but I have enough only to give myself physical form. There is nothing of me to fear.”

“But your thoughts are of your own volition, are they not?”

“I do not have to share them with you.” She breathed and turned her head away. “You could take them by force if you wanted. I am in your realm, after all. In fact, you already know, don’t you?”

“I would prefer that you share it, for to hear and understand it from your own lips is more powerful.”

Grima stared her in the face, “Are you here to belittle me? That your champion once again triumphed and toppled the power I held?”

Naga blinked, her face remaining serene. “That was many years ago, Grima. And given time, all things are capable of change, much like how you have thought of humans as of recent, is it not? You wish to learn from them”

“Hmph.” Her gaze returned to the Eternal Well, the souls swirling and spinning, meeting in the center and disappearing into the soft green light. “I find myself jealous. Such small frames, capable of so much. And of myself? What have I achieved besides failure?”

“Your goals have been to tame humanity, that they obey you or die,” her voice spoke again, calm and frustratingly unreadable. “It is only natural that the inhabitants of the world would defy you.”

“But it confuses me to no end. Our powers are not enough to snuff out the other’s flame. Even now, your full strength can never fully extinguish me. And yet when wielded by a human your strength is magnified.” She tried not to shake with rage. “But even when I took a champion for myself, I was unsuccessful. I want to know why. What strength lies in humanity? There is something I do not understand, and I must know.”

Silence rippled across the glowing waters. But slowly, Naga drew close and Grima slowly drifted herself away in response. Seeing the movement from her, she stopped and spoke. “You wish to walk among them, do you not?”

“... It would at least let me seek an answer. But this is a land that despises my existence, as you know,” Grima growled deep in frustration. “Even if I were to venture into this land, I would be cut down and returned here without question. I must wait to grow stronger, but my patience wears thin in this madness.”

“... What if I were to grant you a portion of my strength? What would you desire to do with it?”

Grima’s form twirled, narrowed eyes boring deep into her. “Do you so brazenly believe me to be a fool? To fall for such a lowly trap?”

“I am offering a trade, Grima. I can grant you strength to bolster your human form, to protect you from mortal danger as you tread the earth, but I cannot give it to you freely. In exchange, you will not interfere with the affairs of man beyond that which we are called to.”

Of course it was too good to be true. She did not expect her full strength to be provided to her, but she did not need it. Just enough for her form to be protected, and perhaps to dispose of those who would seek to cross her. And it was not as though her own powers would not return to her over time, letting her remain young in the eyes of man.

“I cannot simply refrain from tampering with the course of history. I am walking among man to learn - communicating is thus tantamount and implied.”

“That is also true.” Naga’s eyes fell closed for a moment before opening again. “Then I instead pose you this. You may not strike someone down until they have sincerely proven themselves a threat to your physical self and moved to draw your blood. You must learn to negotiate and cooperate with humans.”

Grima’s head tilted forward, eyes still locked on hers. “And if I were to overstep myself?”

Naga’s lips were thin. “You will not be able to.”

“So I will be forced to passively watch as the landscape around me is warped by man.” It would give her the ability to see man during times of peace and trial. Perhaps that is the best method to learn.

But that was not enough. What if her ruse failed? What if she had to defend herself? But with her power taken away from her, she was unsure of what options remained. “So my power is sealed away, but what of my form?”

Naga’s gaze blinked, but betrayed nothing else. “You want your eyes, don’t you?”

She took a breath. “That would be desirable, yes. To be used with discretion, of course. I doubt I will learn much if all know of my true self as I would not be seen as a human.”

At this Naga made no reply. Instead her hand reached out, and a soft glow emanated from her and began to flow over in trails of green. “I shall give you that concession, then. Become human, and walk among them.”

Green mixed with purple, and Grima let her own magic wash over her together with Naga’s. A soft glow enveloped the mist and haze around her, and flesh took its place. On the back of her right hand was her own sigil, a face of six eyes sprouting from a coiled string shaped that was shaped like a wishbone. With a soft breath, her red eyes - all six - opened upon her face, the extra pairs running down her cheeks.

With one last look at Naga, the extra eyes closed up, skin hiding them as if they were never there. Turning away, she stepped into the waters of the Eternal Well. The souls of humanity within swirled around her body, and she let the old magics of a long forgotten god take her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just testing the waters :) Leave a comment if you like the concept so far!


	2. Chapter 2

Grima awoke in a field of grass, thankfully with clothes. It would have been inconvenient otherwise. Raising her body from the earth, she looked at her surroundings, to the four corners of the sky. The sun was to the east, so it was still early morn for the world. And to the west was a small brook that led to what looked like a forest, the waters riding north across smoothed stones.

Her eyes fell to the clouds. She roamed them once, looking down upon the earth and humanity as nothing, not even fit to be called insects. And yet now she was among them, her feet being dirtied by the dust she once ground them into. But that was what she was here for - to learn why they were so strong. To learn how they could muster the power in mere muscles and overcome her, who was as ageless and infinite as Naga.

The first thing she did was take inventory. Aside from the clothes on her back, a simple pair of pants and top and a purple cloak, she had little else. A few spare coins and a tinderbox was all she could scrounge in her pockets. She wasn't sure of she needed any of it. She was a dragon in human form, after all, but she kept it all the same.

Satisfied that there was nothing left on her person, she tucked away the items and looked towards the stream again. Human settlements gathered near bodies of water, so if she walked a path alongside it, she would be bound to run into them sooner or later. But the thought of it made her hesitate.

What would she do once she met them? Killing them was out of the question, and neither was she here to set her own plan into motion. That would be counterintuitive to her goal, and it was unavailable to her to begin with.

What power remained in her form, anyway? Raising her palm in front of her, she could feel the tingling sensation of magic in her arm, electricity riding her nerves to the ends of her fingertips. With a vigorous shake of her arm, a single pink flame appeared, engulfing her hand in its familiar heat and glow. But after the initial burst, it began to die down until it fit into the palm of her hand.

She scoffed and clenched her fist, the flame dying to nothing inside it. She could start a fire on her own, but doubted her ability to do more than singe a person’s clothing. It would be some time before she could wield enough power to be on the level of a basic mage, but it was a destination she was sure she would eventually reach.

Her eye turned to the water again, and she started to walk. One boot in front of the other, pressing down on the blades of grass. By the time Grima decided that it was time to stop walking, the sun had begun to meet the horizon. Her feet ached, but the feeling did not stay for long, her draconic nature letting her recover quickly. Perhaps it was a boon that Naga had saw fit for her to retain, but for now she did not question it.

The same could not be said, however, for the pit in her stomach. Perhaps she should have stopped sooner when she was aware of the emptiness inside of her, but now that evening had begun to fall the gnawing hunger inside was getting unbearable. Now there was only the small fire at her feet with nothing to roast on top of it.

At least Naga had made it simple for her to start a fire. Her own hand, engulfed in her pink-black hellflames, easily set fire to the wooden branches. The tinderbox could be traded or bartered away for something more valuable.

Her eyes trailed to the bubbling stream.

Perhaps she should try to catch something. Fishing - that was the term, wasn’t it? But she had no line to cast, no net to throw into the water. And with the dying light, it was a lost cause. Thus there would be nothing to eat this night. 

She laid down, her body resting on its back at the side of the fire. An uneventful first day. She decided that she would rest for tonight and fetch herself a meal in the morning. As Grima let her gaze settle upon the stars, she felt her eyes close and her breath came out in a huff.

To think that she would willingly walk this earth, toil in its dust, and starve like a human just to understand them. What madness was this?

She didn’t even know if she, as a human, would need to eat or drink. But it would be a comfort at the very least, she supposed.

* * *

Luck would befall Grima as she continued her journey downriver. Halfway through the day, a pair of boys playing in the slower waters entered her view, and she patiently watched as they trounced around in the stream. More importantly, though, one of them pulled out a fish with their bare hands. It wasn’t very large, but it was still something - a technique she could imitate.

They knelt down and placed a hand in the water, their bodies still as they looked into the stream. And after some time passed, perhaps when a fish wandered close enough, they sprung into action, grasping and pulling, hoping to have caught something.

After the two moved on, she took off her boots and waded into the water. But before she attempted to mimic the two boys, she saw her own face stare back at her, and she truly looked at herself. She knew that her hair was stark white, with long bangs and a set of braids running along the sides of her head. And that her eyes were sharp and red, granted to her by Naga. But her face seemed youthful, perhaps only a few years after completing her second decade of life.

As a test, she opened all of her eyes, slowly blinking and hiding them away again. As Naga had promised, she had given her those for use at any time. But it was best to keep them hidden, and she stowed them away again. Ultimately, her form was ageless, and so this would be the mask she would wear for however many years she did this for. Sooner or later someone would realize that she hadn’t aged a day, and perhaps she would be forced to leave.

But that was a conundrum for another time. Her stomach growled, and she returned to the task at hand. Her hand went into the water and she turned as still as stone, letting the stream wet and dampen her clothes. Looking down, she saw that while the fish had initially fled from the foreign object, they slowly returned. But none of them were large - they would not be a filling meal on their own.

But they would have to do.

The first four attempts would yield nothing, the fish slipping past the cracks of her fingertips. But hunger drove her to try again, and she caught her first one. But there was no celebration. No joy. Without a second thought, she raised it to her mouth and crushed it between her teeth, bones and all. The act itself was not unlike feasting on the souls and bodies of the fallen, and combined with her hunger, she acted naturally.

The taste was nothing stellar. Perhaps there was value in cooking the fish, or at least removing its organs like the fishmongers of ports and wharfs that she observed from afar. But for now, she stuck her hand into the stream again to catch some more.

Grima still doubted that she needed to eat, but perhaps it was better to not test the limits of her form so soon.

* * *

The next day, she struck out with a full stomach and found the village that the boys must have hailed from. She watched as the people milled about, handling their daily chores and tasks. This would be a good place to observe, perhaps. Mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, elders and younglings. All seemed to be present in the area.

As she wandered throughout the village, more than a few eyes fell upon her. She had an unusual complexion, after all. Her hair was white, her gaze a sharp red, and the purple cloak on her shoulders stood out against the more common blues and whites and browns. A few seemed to dismiss her presence, but one was curious and brave enough to speak with her.

“Not from around these parts, are ya Missy? Are you lost, perhaps?”

Her head and then body turned to face the person speaking to her - a middle-aged woman. Perhaps she had her own family already. “Indeed, though I would not consider myself lost. I am from a different land, a traveler.”

The lady’s hands went to her lips, fighting back a gasp. “Oh, a traveler then - are you an apprentice, perhaps?”

Slowly, another problem reared its head into the air. Like the fishmonger, men and women and sometimes children had an occupation to earn an income. A specialized task, a learned skill, or perhaps just wares to sell. She, however, had none. Grima was a blank and dark slate, known to bring and misfortune unto humanity. But that needed to change for this experiment. Destruction was not a sustainable livelihood at this time.

“The closest I can describe myself to be is, perhaps, a scholar,” she finally spoke. “I am journeying to understand, to know humanity and wonder they have persevered for so long.”

“That sounds quite lovely.” She doubted that the woman understood the full extent of her goal, but that was not necessary. “Will you be staying here for long?”

Grima reached into her pocket, pulling out the spare copper coins she had. Her brow furrowed and her lips thinned. “Not for long. I do not have much in terms of payment, so I doubt my presence would be welcomed.” But she remembered the tinderbox in her coat and drew it out. It was simple in design, but its craftsmanship was solid with a sturdy clasp. Undoing it and taking a look, the standard pieces were inside - flint, steel, and some dried fibers to burn. Maybe she could trade it away for something, another small tool perhaps like a knife. Firestarting was of no concern to her after all.

She turned to the woman. “Where is your marketplace?”


	3. Chapter 3

The village itself didn’t have a market. It was too small to be a true center of trade. As her eyes scanned the area, she could see a few peddlers with varied wares. Someone would have something she would desire or find to be useful.

Yet even that, though, was a challenge in itself. What was that tinderbox worth to these humans? As a dragon, she never needed any tool, but now she had to attribute a value to it. What if she couldn’t find someone that would be willing to trade for it?

What if there was nothing that caught her eye? She would be carrying dead weight until she could find something else later.

Striding into the square, she could feel the eyes turning to her. More than one person shot Grima a quick look only to resume their own tasks later, but the stares from the merchants were a little different. Their gaze lingered a little longer, as if analyzing her potential as a customer. But they fell away in the end, returning to their own goods. All except for one.

“Hello!” Her voice was clear, cutting across the area to reach her. Turning her eyes to the source, it was from a smiling woman with red hair tied up in a messy ponytail. Her setting was modest - a plain yellow carpet roll lay in front of her, and she sat atop of it. “Why don’t you come here and take a look, dear? I’m sure there’s something I can help you find.”

An invitation. She was hesitant, but she walked towards the merchant in the end, her feet slowly trudging upon the dirt. As she drew closer, she could see her face more clearly, particularly her eyes, a strong crimson, and she stopped. Behind her was a pack of her own goods and additional wares. But while her clothes were built around serviceability, there were sections made with the colors of dull golds and deep reds.

And though most merchants often knew a little about keeping themselves safe, she could sense a strong magic presence, one that ran far older and deeper than just the learned knowledge and techniques and regurgitation of mages. Rather, it was of a magic more similar to her own though more benign in nature. Still, she felt her footsteps hesitate in its presence.

“Oh? Is something wrong? Is there perhaps something else I could help you with?” the woman tilted her head to the side, a finger rising to her chin.

Blinking once, her gaze never leaving the merchant, Grima walked towards her and began to appraise her wares. “I do not have much, but I am looking to trade. What small tools do you have?”

“A trade?” her lips drew thin for a moment. “Well, if it’s the right item, perhaps I wouldn’t mind. Why don’t you show me what you have?”

Some merchants might have attempted to deceive her, but she herself knew better than to assume that from the woman in front of her. “I have some copper pieces, and this,” she pulled out the coins and her tinderbox. “What would you trade me for it?”

“Hm, a tinderbox,” the merchant reached out and took it into her hand, examining the pieces within it. “Not many would give that up. Life-saving piece of work, these are.” Her smile came back and winked at her. “Maybe you’re secretly a dragon? Breathing fire and all that?”

Her shoulders tightened, and she had to remind herself of the gentle cloud that softly surrounded Grima in order to relax. “There is no need to toy with me like this.”

She let herself chuckle, “You have to forgive me. You’re a little strange and I couldn’t help but make a joke.”

“You would call me strange?”

“Trust me, dear,” the woman looked her deep in the eye, and blinked. “You’re the most interesting thing I’ve seen in ages. And I’ve seen just about everything.”

She didn’t doubt it. “What tools can I obtain for my goods?”

Taking the coins from Grima, she splayed them across the carpet before taking a look at the tinderbox. “Well, Lady Dragon, starting a fire is quite important, so,” she took out the flint, steel, and fibers, “these individual materials are quite useful. The box itself? Not so much. It’s sturdy though, so I recommend keeping it just to store small things you find useful or valuable.”

She placed the three items with the copper coins. Then looking into her pack behind her, she began to fish around in some of the smaller pockets and pulled out an item - a small knife and an accompanying sheath. The blade portion was no longer than her finger, and she frowned.

“Oh, don’t you worry about size, now. A knife is a very versatile tool. Cutting and separating fibers, digging, gutting fish…”

It was another choice selection of words, and Grima’s eyes shot up at the woman. She only chuckled and smiled. “Well, perhaps the rumors are true, then. Some people are saying that there is a strange woman looking to catch some fish.” Placing the knife neatly into the tinderbox, she closed the clasp and handed it back to her. “It’s worth a bit more than what you offered me, but I think I can let it slide just this once.” Taking the item back, she tucked it into her pocket. “Think of it as a thank you for the fun conversation. Maybe if I see you again, Lady Dragon, buy a nice pouch from me and we’ll consider it fair, okay?”

“... Perhaps.”

“Mm, well, take care for now! And if you have anything else to offer, you know where to find me. And if you’re looking for fish,” the woman beckoned her to lean in, and she did, “Rumor has it that there’s an old abandoned cottage downstream, off the beaten road. No one really remembers who lived there, but they say that the fish there are quite big.”

“... I see.”

The woman winked and smiled before turning her gaze away from Grima, and she took this as her queue to leave. Within moments, she had called out to another person who was passing through the square and began to beckon them over. She set out without hesitation to determine if the rumor was true, even if it meant sleeping outside of the village for the night.

One did not discard the advice of a god, after all.

* * *

The sun set quickly after she began following the stream, forcing Grima to settle down upon the cool grass. But as soon as the sun was up and beginning to shine into her eyes, she started to walk again, following the river and winding through trees and tall grass to reach her destination. The area itself seemed quiet, lacking in travelers and coinciding with what the merchant said the other day. If the cottage was off of the well-worn path, then few would know of its existence.

Right when her feet had begun to protest, though, she saw it. Nature had started to reclaim the structure. A few vines were climbing up the side and the straw roof was in terrible condition, perhaps only good for burning. But the rest of the building seemed sound, made from stone cobbled and held in place by mortar. And as the merchant said, it bordered the river.

The size of a fish was still a rumor to be verified, but she was at least satisfied that the building was there. Walking towards the small cottage, she noticed that the door was damaged, both by time and force. Perhaps looters had made their way through it more than once in search of something valuable. And when she pushed it open, it gave way to a simple, empty innard.

Grima crossed her arms. So these were the hovels that humans dwelled in. Plain walls that generations were born into and died between. And yet from them sprung forth the kings and queens and heroes of old. How many humans were raised from the humble dust to become lords and lieges of their own? And yet these walls were shared by the worms of society. Those who were nothing, destined to be crushed beneath the heel of ambition.

To think that these creatures defeated her not once, but twice. She could feel her brow furrow and teeth clench in rage.

Pathetic.

But that was what she was here to study and overcome. Looking into each corner, the room was truly barren. There was a long rectangular hole in the wall, perhaps an area where ingredients were prepared. And in the center was a small pit where a small fire could be made. Otherwise, there was nothing else except a shelf. Taking a step closer, though, she felt her head tilt. Atop the shelf was a series of items, some narrow, some wide. But they were covered in dust and cobwebs.

Taking out her knife from the tinderbox, she brought it up and began to clear the filth. As each layer gave way to the blade, there was a bubbling sensation. It was as if her body desired to act, yet was constrained. But finally the last bit was brushed away, and Grima was looking at a shelf of books.

Pulling the knife back to herself, she summoned the meagerest of pink flames to come to the surface of her hand to gently burn away any dirt before tucking it away into its sheath. Then she reached out and grabbed a spine, yanking one of them down. The pages were yellow with age, but were still held together well enough. Flipping through, she saw that this first book held diagrams of leaves and flowers, carefully drawn. Taking down another, this one was a simple collection of stories. Grasping one more, though, she saw that there were drawings of the human body. Bones, organs, descriptions of sicknesses and symptoms.

Medicine - humanity’s attempt at divining the nature of their own bodies.

Clutching the books to her body purple coat, she cast another look into the cottage. Whoever lived here has not returned for some time, and perhaps never will.

This will be her home for the near immediate future, she decided. She would stay and read and learn about the human body until she knew every inch of it. While she had crushed their forms countless times before, she had never taken the time to learn more about them. This would be the first goal of many in her path.

But before she could begin, she would fish and eat.

Perhaps she might even attempt to cook one of them this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyo! Sorry for the delay in getting this up. It's been a busy week for me so far, but I have a good feeling that you'll like this chapter, so hopefully you'll forgive me lol.
> 
> As for what's happening here, there's not much to say. Grima gets into a business trade and it goes from there. Regarding it's slow pace, the next chapter is planned to be the last of the 'slow' parts and from chapter five and onward, I'm hoping to get to Grima running into the Awakening cast. I have a rough outline of what the overall conflict would become, but again a lot of this is still in the air. Gotta say, though, I'm relatively excited at the possibilities.
> 
> Anyway, that's it for now. Hope to see you all soon!


	4. Chapter 4

Grima’s first desire was to clean the cottage as best as she could. As humble as her human coil was, even she did not wish to have her home be such a hovel. But that itself posed a problem. Without the proper tools, all she could do was brush away the dirt, dust, and webs with a leafy branch or her knife. The vines on the outside would be allowed to stay for now, but the roof must be done away with at some point in the future.

Such an insurmountable problem - perhaps that was all she could do for now. Unless she learned the trade herself, she would need to hire the help of another. But with what money? A being of her caliber didn’t need it, but without the greasing of palms, nothing would get done between humans. And that was what she was - human.

Her eyes trailed to the book, to the intricate drawings of flowers and herbs and roots. Medicine was a valuable good. Even she knew of the monarchs who chased after the impossible dream of everlasting life and their follies - she was present to witness them firsthand, after all. Perhaps she could begin as a simple medicine peddler. Gather, process, store, and then bring the goods to market.

And if she had the opportunity, perhaps sell some fish as well. Surely someone would want for food.

Setting the branch outside of the house, she retreated within its walls. With the sky finally gone dark, the only source of light was the small collection of flames, first pink, now orange, burning in the center. But unlike the last night where she was out in the wilderness, the heat remained, undisturbed by the wind.

The floor was still as hard as the earth outside. The door was mostly broken and insecure. But drifting to sleep was infinitely easier in here than in the wilds.

* * *

“By the authority of the Divine Exalt Chresmund, I demand that any bodies to please come forth!”

Grima shot up immediately. Small bits of light were seeping in from the smoke holes at the ends of the roof, and she realized that morning had caught up with her.

“Again, I repeat, any bodies please come forth!”

Three days into her journey and she was already facing the demands of humanity. With one last stretch and blink of all her eyes, the rest hid themselves away as she made a path to the door. With a careful hand, she began to pull it open.

One single human male greeted her, dressed in cloth and leathers. But upon him was an emblazoned seal of the Mark of Naga. And when she poked her head out, he jumped, as if surprised at her presence.

He didn’t look armed, but she found herself to be wary of him. “Is there something you need assistance with?”

“Yes, yes!” he began to speak again. Pulling out a scroll, he began to read. “By order of the Divine Exalt Chresmund, a census of Ylisse is to be taken every tenth year. Every person of each household, whether they be adult or child, is to be accounted for.” Setting aside the scroll, he looked her in the eye. “Truth be told, I was not expecting someone to be present in this small cottage. For the past three years, tax collectors have reported that no one has lived in this household. And not to mention,” his eyes locked upon her robes, “you’ve the look of a foreigner.”

She took a breath. “That would be correct. I had stumbled upon this cottage in the evening and made to stay the night. I do not know of the previous occupant or their fate.”

“Hm, a shame then. However…” his hand went to his chin. “Since you are the current inhabitant of this land and the previous tenant is so far unheard from, perhaps you would be interested in becoming the head of the household here?”

Grima would have preferred to stay off the map as it would be more convenient. But she had chosen to live as a human, to obey the law as humans do. Perhaps convenience was never an option to begin with. “A considerable offer,” her red eyes fell upon his. “What is to be expected of me if I were to become the tenant of this land?”

“Well!” he seemed to perk up at her interest. “There are two rules that landowners are to obey. First is taxation - as a landowner you must produce goods or funding for the Halidom with a value of five gold pieces, and it must be ready by the start of winter. The second is that should the land of Ylisse be called into war, you must be able to send off someone from your household to serve this nation.” His head tilted forward, just the slightest. “Are there any concerns, particularly the last? His Divine Holiness allows foreigners to own land, but only if one obeys his commands.”

Money was of no concern. Humans were, to an extent, predictable - any goods she produced she was sure she could sell. But to wage war on behalf of a monarch? “By portent of Naga, I have taken an oath of pacifism, and am not allowed to harm another. Are there any services I can offer as a trade?”

“To that,” he sighed, “I am afraid there is no negotiation. While one is allowed to pay a higher tax of fifteen gold pieces to avoid war, I have doubts that one of your current circumstances is capable of affording that.”

Grima wanted to be confident. She had observed and watched humans for centuries, waiting to return. She understood the flow of money and values humans sought in the goods they purchased. But while fifteen pieces seemed irrelevant in regards to her goal, neither could she afford such a cost. “Very well then. I will remain peaceful, but should war come, then perhaps I will find another way to provide service to the Exalt. Will I be given a deed for this land?”

* * *

The first challenge was developing a product worth selling. As Grima scoured the books upon her property, none of them provided anything useful beyond medicine and a few food recipes. And with what tools would she even work with? And while affixing a price to it all was the least of her worries, it was still a concern.

Still, it was best to begin somewhere, and she sought to gather ingredients. With book in hand she set out to search the forest, and for the next few days she gathered and dried what herbs and flowers she could match to the texts. Chamomile for sleeping, wild garlic and ginseng to strengthen one’s immunity, the list went on.

And eventually she had enough to feel confident that someone in the village market would buy or at least be willing to trade for what she had. Her list of needed goods were long, and even a single one of them stood to make her job easier. But for now Grima set her eyes on her greatest need first - a satchel to carry more goods with.

She set out early next morning, before the sun even rose. Goods held tight in her folded arms, she made the long walk to the town’s square. That merchant wasn’t there this time, and she was forced to try and work with the other peddlers. And for all her effort, Grima was met with resistance. Either the person did not wish to buy her goods or the price they offered felt disproportionately low. And given that her only experience with money so far was with that merchant, learning was difficult.

In the end, for three days of toil and work in the forest, she walked away with only two pieces of copper. It was abysmally small - she had more to start with when she first awoke in the field. But there was the opportunity at something more valuable. After she had carefully tucked her two coins away, she returned her eyes to the wares the merchants were carrying. The goods they held varied, as each one seemed to specialize in different wares. A jar was worth a silver piece, and decent-sized bag was worth two. Small metal hooks and chains for hanging objects was ten copper.

Everything seemed so expensive. And if her three days of work only amounted to so much, her choice of goods needed to change. Studies of medicine could continue, but she needed to sell something more valuable in the meantime. That, or acquire more goods to sell in a shorter period of time.

Grima had nothing to fear. Mortal weapons were ineffective against her, after all. But winter felt painfully close and she found that the thought put her mind into an uneasy state. Perhaps money was more complicated than she thought.

And before long, three months had passed. Three months of scrounging the forest for any herbs she could come across. Three months of traveling to town and hoping to sell whatever she found. Three months worth of eating whatever foods she could lay her hands on. Wild fruits and vegetables, roots and leaves, fish.

The whispers of winter were becoming louder and louder. The skies darkened sooner. The villagers rushed into their abodes, and an early morning chill greeted Grima with each waking day. The cold, however, meant nothing to her. It was the coming of taxes that was on her mind instead.

As she toiled the earth, each day felt like another ordeal to her human body. Her feet ached, her shoulders were sore, and she had to go further and further to find the plants she was looking for. It was simply unsustainable. Perhaps if she could grow her own herbs and crops, then this line of business was possible.

There was simply no time for that, though. The goal of five gold pieces was one that demanded her full attention, and she couldn’t wait for crops to yield fruit. Any seeds she could find were planted, but only in hopes of what might be available after the cold. And in the end it was not enough. She found that the first of the month only left her with three gold in spite of her efforts. So much time spent, and Grima couldn’t even accomplish her first true goal upon the world.

And so, in the dying lights of the flame within her cottage, she held the three gold notes in her hand. During her brief reigns in the world, a metal such as gold was meaningless. It was weak - it bent and broke to weight and lived only to decorate, to be flaunted in excess. It could not save lives, something she had proven on more than one occasion.

Yet there was a desire tied to it. It represented the ability to obtain. Want. To covet. Useful in that sense, at the very least.

Rising to her feet, she walked to the door of the cottage, with her knife in the pocket. The chill of the night wind threatened to extinguish whatever flame was left, but Grima was not concerned. Tucking her purple cloak around herself a little tighter, she began to walk straight forward and counted her steps.

At the end of the three hundredth one, she began to dig. She first ripped up the roots of any small plants to loosen the earth, and then began to claw and pull away at the dirt until she was as deep as her elbows. Two of the coins fell in, and she put the largest piece of stone she could find on top to cover it before piling the dirt back on top. With the deed complete, she drew out her knife and conjured forth a flame. And on the first tree she saw, she carved a deep ‘x’ into the wood, like in the strange children’s story from other book.

Better to feign failure and pay a small fee than to lose all of her efforts. It was unfortunate that she required deception when she was seeking to learn about these humans. But given the three months she had, time demanded a solution.

* * *

“By Lord Chresmund, open up!”

By chance, Grima was still sleeping. And with how heavy the person pounded upon the door and its still-unfixed state, the individual had already walked. Blinking her eyes, she felt herself rise to her feet and she looked at the intruder. It was an unfamiliar face of a woman. Her face seemed a just little round, younger than her own. The sharpness of adulthood had yet to fully settle. Upon her frame, however, was a uniform. Cloth and leathers swaddled her body, crisp and clean, refusing to blend into the dirt and stone of her cottage walls. And right over her shoulder once again was the Mark of Naga. 

An authority figure.

Another blink. “Speak.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, but everything else stayed the same. “I’m here for your tax payment.” Her gaze fell upon the walls, the corners, the room, as if taking stock of what was present. Finally, her brown eyes settled upon her red ones. “However, I doubt you are capable of paying the cost.”

So the time had come. Trusting that the rest of her gold was safe, she reached into her pocket and drew out her single remaining gold coin. “Try as I might, I’ve only this for my efforts. This is all I can give you.”

“Hm…” the young woman came close as her eyes fell upon the coin. “For me, you say?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, thank you for paying me,” she smiled, and with one last look into her eye she took the one coin and slid it into a jingling pouch. “But you are still required to pay a tax of five gold to the state. And it looks like you don’t have any more money to give.”

Grima blinked again. “What?”

“You paid me for the service of collecting your taxes, but you have yet to put forth a single coin towards your state dues.” She stepped back, building distance between the two of them. “And with the way things look, you have nothing left to pay it with.”

She had seen such things before. Tax collectors were sometimes known for their cruel means, and this one was among their lot. While she was a dragon, such petty thefts were below her concern. But now that she was a human, one who toiled to put together what little she could, this was an ugly surprise.

“Those who cannot pay the full tax are to be evicted and their goods seized in the name of Lord Chresmund. Those who cannot pay any part of it at all are to become the subjects of the state, and you’re as poor as they come.” Her voice was victorious, sinister. “All you have are the weeds growing out of your walls.”

“Enough!” her own hands balled into fists. “You’ve cheated me for my single coin. Now begone - I have work to do, and-” 

There was a stinging sensation on her cheek, and a loud snap echoed off the walls. Her vision suddenly jerked to the side, and she tasted the faintest drop of blood.

It tasted human, mostly.

“You don’t understand, do you?” the woman said, “You belong to the state now.”

Grima’s eyes closed. A slave? Her? All this waiting, these three months of fish and foraging, and her only reward was this? Unjust. Infuriating.

But then she was no better. There was more money, after all. Was she also not being dishonest by secretly withholding her funds?

Stil, it could end here. The rules Naga had laid were simple - she could kill those who made her bleed, and this woman had very much done so. Already she could feel her powers rising within her body, boiling forth into her blood. She stood straighter, more invigorated than ever, as if her body did not ache from labor. Renewed, restored.

Vengeful.

But that was not why she came to the earth. However… perhaps something could still be done.

“Servant of the state, you’ve overstayed your welcome.” Eyes still closed, she let her body right itself. And pair by pair, from the eyes at to top and then down her cheeks, they opened to stare at the woman. Her mouth had slackened, eyes wide, face in terror. “Begone, human.”

She did not need further encouragement - within seconds her frame had left the cottage.

* * *

_ Thus started a rumor that a witch lived on the river, well-versed in the medicines but with an unusual demeanor. Few dared to pay her a visit, and some say that no one ever returned. _

_ For this, Grima was thankful, for outside of accumulating wealth and gaining knowledge, nothing of significance happened for the next five years. _


End file.
